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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26971345">Anamnesis</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidiWags/pseuds/MidiWags'>MidiWags</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Final Fantasy XIV</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Comfort fic, Disabled WoL, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hyur WoL, connie struggles with her ptsd, gory in the beginning, highlander wol, memories of sexual/domestic abuse, memories of war trauma, soft angst, use of prosthetic limb(s), wol Constance Hawke</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 20:54:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>897</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26971345</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidiWags/pseuds/MidiWags</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>[ an-am-nee-sis ]<br/>1. The recollection or remembrance of the past; reminiscence</p><p>War likes to leave its mark, and Constance has her fair share.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Warrior of Light/Thancred Waters</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Anamnesis</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>First fic on AO3! It’s pretty short but I’m happy with this for my first.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>It’s sudden; her flesh ripping and tearing around the metal protruding from her gut, her leg barely attached by threads of sinew, her skin scorching from the activated ceruleum. Her voice is smothered by the bile and blood rising in her throat. The stains of her squadron—her family—surround her, spattered against the smoldering battlefield. The echoes of their screams were rusty nails in her ruined heart, and in this bloody Abbadon she gives a silent prayer for the gods to end it, let her die, please let her die. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>There are hands on her body, groping, mangling, mutilating her flesh, and his words are as claws tearing through her core. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Sweet little doll,” he says. The claws squeeze and puncture. Her ribs crack and shatter. She chokes back her voice. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Let me hear that song,” he hums. Her hips bruise and break, and she feels something rupture. She still refuses to relent. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Little whore,” he hisses, and something in her spills, squirms, writhes. “You should know better by now.” Her body is ripped open and she has no voice, yet something still screams and cries. She is empty and lost and hurt and the gods stay silent; she cannot die.</em>
</p><p>***</p><p>“Constance!”</p><p>Thancred’s voice rang with the clarity of a bell, and the room slowly phased into focus. She was sat upright, leaned against him, his hands smoothing over her arms and kneading her tensed muscles. She breathed a sigh of relief—it was just a dream...</p><p>“You alright?” he asked, bringing a hand to her shoulder and rubbing with his thumb. Constance opened her mouth to reply but found her voice was nothing but a rasp, and resorted to a weak nod. When Thancred gave an affirming hum, she let her head fall back against his shoulder. Gods, did she hurt. Her back and pelvis throbbed with a stabbing pain, her head felt as though she’d been struck with a pipe. She didn’t even want to think about her leg. Without shifting her gaze, she brought her shaking hands to fumble with the bindings of her prosthetic, leather straps slipping from her fingers to smack against her flesh. Shit.</p><p>Thancred gave her shoulder a tender squeeze before covering her hands with his own. “Allow me.” Constance groaned before mumbling “okay” and dropped her hands in her lap as he smoothly undid the fastenings around her thigh. She flinched slightly when his wrist brushed against the inside of her thigh, followed by a soft apology from both parties. Constance chuckled weakly as Thancred placed a gentle kiss against her temple. The hand still resting against her thigh tapped a finger lightly. “Want this off?”</p><p>“Please,” she whispered, before coughing against the thorny feeling in her throat. She finally opened her eyes—she had squeezed them shut against the pain—and watched as Thancred carefully slid back the locking mechanism that kept her leg connected, and pulled the metal limb off with a light click. The loss of weight was gratifying and Constance likely would have collapsed had she not already been propped against him.</p><p>“Gods, that feels so much better,” she mumbled. “Hurt like hell.” Thancred chuckled as he scooted her leg to the side.</p><p>“I can imagine,” he replied. “Must’ve been quite the terror, you were thrashing and shouting no small amount.” Constance winced as the memories scratched at the back of her mind and answered, “Yeah, it was bad.” A not-so-small part of her felt rather guilty; it wasn’t fair that he had to deal with her problems, not when he had enough of his own. She didn’t want him to feel as though he was responsible for these scars and bruises, for tending to her broken mind. She didn’t want to burden him.</p><p>Either she was too tired to mask it, or Thancred was quickly picking up on her cues. “It’s alright,” he soothed, “you’re not a burden, love. You never were.” He punctuated his thought with another gentle kiss to her hairline and cupped a hand against her jaw, thumb tenderly stroking the hollow of her cheek. Constance hummed softly. As much as she couldn’t agree, she was far too out of it to fight. Instead she leaned further into him, placing her hand against his chest. His warmth was so calming, and slowly sapped away at the pain and aches in her body.</p><p>“‘Red?”</p><p>“Hm?” Constance paused as she felt him wrap his hand around hers against his chest. Gods, she didn’t deserve him. Every touch he gave was filled with his adoration, his love, his devotion, and she didn’t deserve it. He was there when her mind was dark and shattered. He was there when her body ached beyond tolerance. He was there when the fighting took its toll, even through his own hurts. She trusted him. Trusted him, more than she’d trusted anyone.</p><p><em>For every day you’ve helped me heal</em>, she thought, <em>I promise tenfold that I’ll be there to help you. I promise. </em></p><p>With a smile on her lips as Thancred watched her patiently, his gaze tender and loving, she mustered up as much voice as she could and gave a broken hum:</p><p>“Thank you for loving this broken soldier.”</p><p>For a moment he almost looked surprised. But he smiled, and her heart melted for him all over again as he rested his forehead against hers. “Always, darling.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Just some somft</p></blockquote></div></div>
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